Threads
by PeaceLoveTea
Summary: When a young weaver is forced to weave a tapestry to hang in the halls of Cair Paravel, she finds herself thinking about who might admire her work, and how they relate to the threads.


**Threads**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I do own Aelae, Aliatis, Catara, Lilith, and Menara.. Which is probably why they have the weirdest names .

**A/N: **I really don't like this fic at all. I have so many other (better) ideas, but I absolutely could not write them until I wrote this little nag out. My muse is rebellious. >. But I finally got it down, even if I'm not happy with it at all, and I can now freely carry out my other ideas.

The point of this was to compare the Pevensies to the primary colors (Green is secondary but work with me, here), while still trying to keep to a bit of a plotline (however stupid it is). So yup, here ya go.

* * *

_You're late, you're late, you're late._

The words echo in my mind. I know that's exactly what Aelae is going to say to me when I get to the weavers' cottage. Because, frankly, I am late, as usual. But can I really help it that my husband demands breakfast every morning? I hate him, I really do, but he's who mother and father chose for me. Why, I have no idea. His looks leave much to be desired, his attitude is far worse, and his family is almost as dirt poor as ours. Which leaves me working my fingertips off at the weavers' cottage trying to earn enough money for food to make his damn breakfast.

Turning the corner and rushing down the cobblestone street, I finally reach the tiny cottage at the end of town. Biting my lip and preparing for yet another lecture, I meekly push the door open, and almost immediately all four heads turn my way. Wait, no, _three_ heads. Catara and Lilith are both at their looms, and Menara is boiling tea at the small stove in the corner. My eyes narrow in confusion. _Where's Aelae?_

"You're late."

The words enter my mind for the second time that morning. I silently curse to myself, not daring to turn around and meet the glare of the ill-tempered Head Weaver. I hold my breath, knowing that she wants me to explain, but my tongue might as well be lead.

"Aliatis, _why_, praytell, are you late?"

I painfully notice that she used my full name. _How many times do I have to tell her, it's _**_Ali_**.

The silence commences for a moment longer.

"I asked you a question, which I expect to be answered."

Gulping, I gather up enough courage to face her, turning around ever so slowly to look up at those burning brown eyes. "Senin kept me. You know how he is, Aelae. I couldn't get away. He demanded I prepare a breakfast for him again and I.." She holds up a hand to silence me.

"This is the third time this week, Aliatis, and your orders are building up. You're weaving is slower, your work less impressive, and your customers are, to say the least, dissatisfied. I'm afraid if you don't straighten up, I'm going to have to let you go."

I feel like I have just been kicked in the stomach. "But.. I _need _this job!" I protest, my hands now shaking in both anger and fear. If I lose this job, we're not going to have enough money to get us through next month.

"I understand, which is exactly why you are still here. That, and the fact that I know you have potential as a weaver." At this her gaze softens a bit. "Aliatis, if you would only concentrate, your tapestries would turn out much better."

I nod; it's all I can do. She's right, I know it. But there's so much on my plate (not literally of course) that I can't help but worry constantly.

"I've distributed all of your current orders amongst the other weavers. Right now, I only want you focusing on finishing one tapestry. A request came from Cair Paravel itself for a tapestry depicting the beaches of the Eastern Ocean. I'm leaving this honorable task to you, Aliatis."

Once more, I nod, but this time fervently._ A_ _request from Cair Paravel itself? How can I refuse?_

Aelae returns the gesture, ushering me out of the doorway and towards my loom. "Now, get to work, I should like it finished by evening."

I silently take my seat next to the wooden instrument and pull my drawers of threads closer to me. _First things first- the sky._ I open one of the drawers and pull out a creamy blue, unraveling the thread a bit and working it into the loom. And as I begin to weave, my thoughts threaten to wander to what I should cook for dinner tonight, or how I will find the time to weave Senin those new socks he wants, and all sorts of other trivial things.

However, I force myself to concentrate, and instead think of where this tapestry will hang. I wonder if the Royal Four will admire it, or even see it, and as the light blue thread works through my fingertips, I think of High King Peter.

Blue is King Peter's color. It has always been his color, even since the day he was born in that far off land of Spare Oom. Those sparkling blue eyes are perfect enough to make any Lady melt, and fierce enough to waver any Knight. Aslan most likely had this in mind when announcing him '_to the clear Northern skies.'_ His sense of right and wrong is clear and defined, much like the Northern skies, and that keen perception becomes especially evident when he battles the giants beneath that blue Northern expanse. And when you examine the sky, you are forced to look up to it, much like High King Peter is respected, whether by Kings, civilians, or even his siblings. Whether eyes or skies, Blue is King Peter's color.

I soon become aware that I need to change colors and begin weaving the sun. I reach into my thread drawer and pull out a bright yellow. Unraveling it, I work it into the blue, and soon I find myself thinking of Queen Susan.

Yellow is Queen Susan's color. It has always been associated with the sun, and therefore anything bright. And Queen Susan is bright in more ways than one. She radiates beauty, much like the sun emits heat, and many princes are noted to bask in such beauty as if they were basking in the sun. Also like the sun, the eldest Queen provides a certain warmth to all she encounters. Her earnest congruity is something to be admired. No matter the trouble Narnia faces, one can always trust that Queen Susan has kept a cool head and knows how to deal with such a situation. This knowing hope can be compared with the unconscious faith that the sun will rise after it has set, as it has always done. Both Queen Susan and the sun remain consistent when it seems nothing else has. Whether beauty or congruity, Yellow is Queen Susan's color.

I finish the sun quickly, along with the sandy beach which is done in a lighter yellow, and move on to the cliffside that juts into the Eastern Ocean from the beach near Cair Paravel. I silently place the yellows back in their drawer and pull out a brownish red. I work it into the loom and as I begin to weave, King Edmund enters my thoughts.

Red is King Edmund's color. However, it is not a brownish red like the cliffsides, it is a vibrant, deep red. Red is a bold and gallant color, noticeable in any setting. In Narnia it has been associated with Aslan. The Lion is painted in the richest red on every Narnian banner and shield. This insignia ignites a memory in King Edmund, however, for it reminds him of the blood Aslan shed for his own soul. The bright red blood that washed away his treachery, and ultimately saved Narnia. It is this bright red that reminds Edmund of Aslan's mercy, and mercy makes itself evident in Edmund also when he is in the court room. It is this bright red that makes him King Edmund the Just. Whether justified or sacrificed, Red is King Edmund's color.

The cliff is soon finished, and after I place the red back in its drawer I pull out a dark green. It will be used to form the forest that outlines the beach and grows right down until the sand starts. I unravel it slowly and pull it through the loom, and as I begin weaving it into the picture, I can't help but think of Queen Lucy.

Green is Queen Lucy's color. Green is the color of life. It signals growth and prosperity, development and energy. Queen Lucy embraces all of these traits. She is an ever-present reminder of the merry things in life, even in times of despair. She provides hope when it seems all hope is lost. It is her entry into Narnia that signaled the end of the hundred year winter and the beginning of spring, of prosperity, of life. She embodies all that is pleasant. Though her naivety has gradually dissipated, her innocence remains, and she is, as they say, "the peoples' Queen." It is not unlikely to see her in the small towns of her beloved Narnia, projecting hope and optimism as she goes. Whether prosperity or sincerity, Green is Queen Lucy's color.

I finish the last tree and slowly sever the thread from its spool. Flexing my fingers, for they are quite sore from continuous weaving, I lean back and examine my work. I am surprised to find that it's the best I've ever done. The colors seem brighter, the stitches tighter, the scene more defined. And for the first time in a long time, I feel proud.

Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I know that grip. It is Aelae, come to see my finished product. After an overbearing silence, she finally speaks up. "Well done, Aliatis."

I smile, not even minding that she has used my full name. Once more I look over the tapestry, still attached to the loom, and I find that I have been smiling the whole time. The tapestry is a simple scene of the Eastern beaches, but to me, it means so much more. It is the first tapestry that makes me feel proud, feel accomplished. And all it took was some concentration.


End file.
